James Wan may be most known as the writer and director of
“Saw,” and for being responsible for the assault of questionable “torture porn”
movies that franchise helped launch. Lately, however, he has eschewed over the
top gore and elaborate ways to kill people for a spooky, less gore-soaked style
of horror, like “Insidious” and “Dead Silent.” These movies atmosphere,
escalating tension, and jump scares over blood and guts and violence. And Wan’s
latest, “The Conjuring,” takes pages from two of our favorite subgenres—the
haunted house and the exorcism—and combines them to great effect to tell a
purportedly true tale of real life terror.
Not only is “The Conjuring” set in the 1970s, it’s also a
stylistic and thematic throwback to that era. From a sparse, monochromatic logo
to the spot on era-appropriate fashion sense, this definitely harkens back to
the time of grindhouses and drive-in double features. Even the way Wan shoots
his film is retro. The camera rarely stops moving, and the frame is rarely
still. Overall the approach calls mind what Robert Altman did in “The Long
Goodbye” in 1973, with lots of pushing and pulling, tons of long takes that
almost soar through hallways and between rooms. While not quite as consistent
at Altman—things dial down as the film progresses—this tactic creates a gut
response and places you in a precarious position. You’re already a touch off
kilter, which only serves to enhance the sense of unease the film establishes
from the outset.
I don’t know how many times horror, as a genre, will show us
this before we finally learn our lesson, but if you find a beautiful,
too-perfect house for way less than you should be paying for it, there is
something horribly wrong with it. You may not notice it right out of the gate,
but you will. It’ll be infested with some hungry creature, be the site of a
horrific unsolved murder, or, in the case of “The Conjuring,” haunted. When the
Perron Family moves into their new country home, it doesn’t take long before
their elated state takes a sinister turn. Mother Carolyn (Lili Taylor) wakes up
covered in mysterious bruises, and they discover a hidden basement full of
creepy old furniture and an out of tune piano. One daughter starts
sleepwalking; one feels a hand grab her leg as she sleeps; and the youngest
makes a new friend named Rory, who only she can see, and who she met because he
lives in the mirror of a creepy music box found near a giant, gnarled tree that
would be perfect for hanging.
Wan does a nice job balancing quick jump scares, like a face
in mirror, while cranking up the tension at the same time. Ron Livingston and
Lili Taylor are a likable couple, just trying to make ends meet and give their
collection of daughters a better life. As the situation gets worse—before long
the entire family is sleeping in the living room—you feel for them, and root
for them. Thankfully this is the 1970s, and there are the Warrens, Ed (Patrick
Wilson) and Lorraine (Vera Farmiga), renowned paranormal investigators and the
polyester clad rock stars of the supernatural and unexplained. Lorraine is a
clairvoyant, and sees things others can’t, and Ed is the only outside
demonologist officially recognized by the Catholic Church. They cruise around
countryside, investigating claims, busting ghosts, helping out, and collecting
sinister, possessed objects, which they keep in their den, which functions as a
pseudo museum of eerie artifacts.
It is when these parallel stories come together that “The
Conjuring” shifts from haunted house ghost story into full possession mode, and
the focus changes from ghosts to demons. This is also where the film falters
the most. Your expectations and the story have been built up, but when the
change comes, much of what comes before goes out the window, and you have to
start all over again. The transition is jarring, though ultimately a good move
that brings in a whole other world of sinister possibilities. And thankfully
the lull doesn’t last long. It’s kind of a best of both worlds situation. You
have all of the things that work in a ghost story blending together with all of
the best elements of a demonic infestation tale, and the two mesh well.
“The Conjuring” isn’t breaking any new ground, but the usual
suspects are used well. There’s a creepy doll, lots of sounds and bumps in the
night, ghostly figures in the shadows, and sound design that ups the ante and
establishes an atmosphere of tension and horror. Well plotted and paced, Wan
uses what we know and expect to great ends. The whole film is designed to keep
you on the edge of your seat and keep you uneasy. My screening was full of
nervous laughter, released like an expression of relief. “The Conjuring” could
have been another run-of-the-mill haunting story, or a bland, toothless tale of
exorcism. But Wan puts enough care and thought into his film that, by the time
you get to the third act, runs like a well-oiled horror machine, like a cold
hand creeping up your spine.
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